


The French Way

by The_Elephant_in_the_Pride_Parade



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU, Episode: s04e18-19 The Killing Game, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, bar sex, i was dared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Elephant_in_the_Pride_Parade/pseuds/The_Elephant_in_the_Pride_Parade
Summary: Jack Miller finds Katrine after the war and celebrates by showing her the French Way on a bar top.This is pure smut. I was dared. I hope this lives up to expectations.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Katrine/Miller (Star Trek)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 63





	The French Way

**Author's Note:**

> Huge HUGE thanks to Trekflower and Laney for the beta.  
> Miller's French is as clumsy as mine. If anyone has suggestions for improving that french, please feel free to tell me!  
> First pure smut fic. Be kind.

The blackout curtains around Sandrelines were drawn tight, hiding the lights from within the club. True, they had successfully beat the Germans back from the city - and had blown their headquarters to the high heavens too - but it was just one small spark of hope in a heavily occupied territory. Now, trying to maintain a hold on St. Claire and expand the liberated territory, Captain Miller’s men and Katrine’s Maquis got into skirmishes nightly, in hopes of freeing France and ending this war once and for all.

That night, Miller was with the Maquis leader in her club, taking this precious quiet time to make plans. A strong camaraderie had blossomed between them from the first day they had set eyes on eachother. His men and her resistance fighters boasted that their partnership was the reason they had ousted the Germans from St. Claire in barely three days.

They had spent countless hours in each other’s company since, for there was still much to do. With a foothold in occupied France, and reinforcements on the way, it was time to make use of their win, and start crippling the German supply lines.

But this was the first night Jack and Katrine had gotten to share solely between themselves, and in truth, Jack was finding it rather hard to focus.

"Z'eir shipments cross through here, here, and through a freight line in the hills here," Katrine was telling him. He watched her lick the tip of her pencil before she marked off the spots on his map. She put her hands on her hips as she leaned over their work - the sleeves of her mens dress shirt were rolled up to her elbows and her rose perfume wafted all around. "Of course, with z'em cut off from St. Claire, I would look at z'ese roads here as z'eir alternate route.” Katrine looked up at his amused eyes and raised her delicate brows. "What?"

Jack shook his head, grinning rather sheepishly. She was far too fine a lady for some of the thoughts he’d just been having. He saluted her with his glass of cognac. "I was just thinking ... you're a gung ho kind of gal, aren't you?"

She threw back her head and laughed. "Ah. C'est la méthode française… you would say 'ze French way'"

He choked on his drink.

"Merde! Do not waste ze good stuff!" She complained as she moved around the bar with a handkerchief in hand. Katrine bent close to him, to check he was alright and once assured, teased: "Do not tell me the rumors about you Americans not holding your  _ liquor  _ are true, mon capitaine?"

He shook his head, trying to forget the way her rosy lips shaped the word  _ liquor _ . "It’s not that," he coughed, and took a hearty swig of his drink to prove it. He cleared his throat. "The uh, the  _ French way  _ means something else, en anglais."

"Quelle?" She crossed her arms and arced her perfect eyebrows.

"Nothing," he said, hand drifting unconsciously up to his ear to tug the lobe.

Her eyes narrowed and suddenly her hand darted towards him and captured his wrist. "You have a tell, Captain," she said, as she snaked her hand up over his. Her nails traced the shell of his ear. "You pull your ear often around your charming Lieutenant… Usually whenever he says something  _ rude _ . So… I had inferred it means you are embarrassed by him and you tug ze ear to apologize for his behaviour... and so you must be ashamed of me because you are doing it now."

"No!” he rasped, for she was quite close and her perfume and golden hair were all around him. He gasped softly and shivered as she cupped his neck and leaned into his ear.

"Z’ere is…. one other hypothesis I am considering"

"Uh-huh…”

"Mhmmm..." she leaned down and boldly nipped his ear. "It is a tell zat you are thinking about  _ sex. _ " And then she leaned across him, grabbing his own drink off the bar and dancing out of his reach. She leaned her hip against the bar top, arced her brow and sipped his cognac. “What is zis… French way, Captain?” 

His eyes darkened and he moved in close to her, swift as a panther. He took the drink from her hand, set it on the bar, and put his hands to either side of her on the bar top, trapping her. He leaned in, forcing her to arc backwards, her chest pressing against his as she met his gaze.

"A bold hypothesis,” he said, lips a hair's breadth from hers. "I’m sure a gal like you wants evidence to prove it"

“A gung 'oh kind of gal…” she licked her lips and put her hands on his chest. “So what is ze French way?” 

He leaned in, lips meeting hers. He sucked her lower one between his teeth, making her moan and slid his thigh between her legs. “Don’t tempt me Katrine,” he said, breaking for air. “You have no idea what you do to a man,” 

“Show me,” she demanded again.

He put a hand behind her head, pressing fully against her as he captured her mouth, slipping his tongue between her lips, a preview of the things he wanted to do with her.

His kisses had moved down to her neck and she’d gotten his belt undone and his pants half unbuttoned when the chime over the door crashed them immediately back to reality.

“Hurry!” Lt. Paris snapped as he barged into the room. "They’re moving quicker than expected - uh - hey!" He looked around. "Where are the grenades?” 

"In here" Katrine moved away from Miller running her hand through her mussed hair as she moved to a portrait behind the bar. She pulled it off the wall, revealing a locked metal cabinet, and fished the key out of her shirt. "Report," she snapped, seeming not to care that he didn’t report to her. 

Tom raised his eyebrows and looked to his commanding officer, who nodded while hastily redoing his buttons and belt. "Uhhh… German convoy approaching from the east... five trucks. B’Elanna’s confirmed it’s a munitions shipment. We’re moving to intercept..." He frowned. "You didn't get my radio, did you?"

They both looked towards the radio next to the cash box. It was crackling. If it had brought news of troop movements, both of them had missed it.

Katrine shook her head. "I guess it is out of tune," she said, tugging the sleeves of her dress shirt up higher. "Get me Jean Luc."

Jack moved to the hidden panel by the stairs, finding Jean Luc, her favorite rifle and tossing it to her. "You're going in that?” he asked of her rather smart and now slightly askew dress clothes.

"It will have to do," she said, pulling a revolver out from the metal locker and passed the case of grenades to Lt. Paris. "Come, we will take the truck."

Tom hopped into the truck bed and Miller joined Katrine in the cab. 

She sighed. "Your Lieutenant. has excellent timing," she muttered as she started the engine. "Is zis why you always put him on latrine duty?"

Miller chuckled and checked that the back window was shut. "I'll come back tomorrow night," he whispered. "I'll show you what we call...  _ ‘la méthode francaise’ _ personally."

The next night came and so did a new company of American forces there to reinforce the city. Jack found himself at the beck and call of the general who accompanied them. Crushed that he could not meet with her tonight, Miller sent a message to Katrine that he would not make it.

On the next day, Katrine was able to come to him, and they were sharing lunch in the tent that served as his command center when his new orders arrived: rather than stay in St. Claire with the reinforcements, he was to move out in two days to Strasbourg and the front. Between acquainting the general with St. Claire and preparing his men to move out, there would be no time for them to explore more of what was between them. Knowing this, Jack escorted her to her truck in silence and when she turned to say goodbye, pulled her into a desperate, bruising kiss.

Katrine left him that day with a dark cloud above her head, and a growing frustration at herself that her first instinct was to follow him. Guilt churned in her gut at the thought that any man could distract her from her duty to her country. 

Jack spent his last two days in St. Claire working round the clock, aching for an hour in which he could freely seek out Katrine, if only to spend it in her company. But there was not a single hour to spare, especially for a captain.

In a desperate bid to explore what had sparked between them, Jack Miller sent her a hastily scrawled message on his last day in town. "Leaving at dawn tomorrow. Come to camp tonight. I want to see you before I leave"

But Katrine did not appear.

A month passed. Miller had begun to accept that perhaps what he'd thought might be a once in a lifetime sort of feeling might, for her, have been a passing fling. He was in a terrible mood, according to Paris, who was the only one with the guts to say so.

He was nearly at the point of trying to move on, when at last he got news, slipped to him by the girl who ran the bakery and the resistance operation in the town they were moving through. Jack did not see a name on it, but he could smell the faintest hint of roses on the paper. He tucked it into his breast pocket. It felt as if it burned there over his heart all day and evening until he found a quiet spot to read it.

_ Mon capitaine, _

_ I so wanted to come to you that last day, but it has been eating at me since our kiss - this cannot be, right now. _

_ We missed the radio message. It turned out fine that time, but in the future it might not be so. You my dear capitaine are quite the distraction. If we are together I feel I will be lost in you and your "French way," whatever it is.  _

_ But my sole duty, since the day the Germans marched their horrid flag down the Champs-Élysées, has been to my country. And it shall be so until my death or until the last German crawls back across the border with his tail between his legs, and the tricolour flies proud and free once more.  _

_ When we make it out the other side of this dark time, and if it was more than just lust brought on by drink and circumstance between us... then I should very much like to see you and revisit this... french way of yours. _

_ May God be with you and your men, Jack _

_ -Katrine _

_ January 1946 _

Jack spotted her through the frosted window: hair up in a loose twist with ringlets hanging down across her face as she bent over a ledger, tapping the end of the pencil against her rouged lips. She was deep in thought, a tumbler of scotch, with the same red lipstick kissing the rim, sat half emptied next to her.

She didn’t look up as the chime over the door sounded. “Cést fermé...” She said distractedly. 

Jack smirked, moving right up to the bar and placing his gift - a 1939 bottle of Picard right before her nose. She looked up, annoyed and then froze in shock. A gasp rushed from her mouth as her lips turned up in a wide smile. “Incroyable!” 

He moved around the bar and she met him halfway, laying her hands on his chest. “Jack…”

He put an arm around her waist and cupped her cheek in his free hand. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since that day," he murmured, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. "I can’t get you out of my head."

She pushed him back, chuckling, and fell backwards onto a bar stool. She gestured for him to take the one beside her. Her eyes were bright with excitement. "Z'en you are a flatterer."

He stepped up to the bar. But rather than sit down, he stepped into the space next to her stool, hip resting against the counter. He saw her raise her hand and reached out, clasping it in his own. "I’m a man of my word... I'm sorry I had to leave, but..."

"Shhh" she pressed a finger to his mouth. "Orders are orders… I understood.” She tilted her head. “I would have thought four years in a strange land would be enough for a man… is z'ere no American girl who would have you?” 

“American girls got nothing on you,” he said with a sincerity that threw her off balance. He pulled the letter, worn and creased from how often he had read it, out of the breast pocket of his military green jacket. “It’s more than lust and circumstance for me.” He laid the letter aside and leaned down to kiss her again. “I want a chance with you Katrine.”

His lips met hers again, coaxing a throaty moan from her. Her arms went around his shoulders and he wrapped an arm around her back, holding her to him. his other hand found her waist and he moved it up over her soft dress until he could cup her breast. Her tongue found its way into his mouth as their kisses turned frenzied. The feelings that had sparked between them during the war were suddenly stoked from smoldering embers into a hot, heady inferno.

They finally broke their kisses, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. 

Katrine pulled back and traced his stubbled jaw with her calloused fingers. “You know... if you are a man of your word, z'en I believe you promised me something you have not yet delivered." Katrine said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Oh yeah, remind me what it is,” he said, matching her darkening gaze with his own, for he had a fair idea what it might be.

"What is ze French way?"

He smirked and swiveled her around on her bar stool, moving so he stood between her legs. He caressed her neck and tilted her head up. He brushed his nose against hers. "The French way," he murmured as he brushed his lips across hers.

"Oui."

His breath tickled her skin as he traced his lips along her jaw up to her ear. "La méthode française?" He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. "You really want to know?"

"Oui..." Katrine gasped as his tongue found a sensitive spot behind her ear. Jack hummed.

"It’'s..." he began to lay kisses in a line down her neck, as she tilted her head to give him better access, "how do you say..." He laved her pulse point and murmured against her skin. "Quand je  _ suc  _ ta friandise."

Katrine moaned and her hand came up to grip the back of his head. 

"I think we should take this somewhere private," he said.

She groaned. "Non. Ici." She pushed him back enough that she could move off the bar stool and sauntered to the door

"Here?" he said glancing around.

"Oui." She smiled as she locked the door and pulled the curtain on the front window. 

Katrine then returned to the bar, hips swaying as she looked him over, a smirk on her lips. She passed him, running a hand along his chest, and hopped onto the bar top. Jack Miller groaned as she looked at him under long lashes, a smirk gracing her red lips. "Tu comprends?"

"Oh, I get the picture," he rasped, stepping in between her legs. her hands slid up his chest and she began to push his jacket off his shoulders. 

In no time his jacket and her blouse had been tossed across the room. He hiked up her skirt and put his hands on her hips, tugging her to the edge of the bar. Her legs hitched up around his hips, hot pussy pressing against the erection straining in his pants. "Fuck" he groaned, grinding against her.

"I could... how do you say... ‘take the edge off,’" Katrine said and gasped as he found a sensitive spot along her collar bone, kissing his way along the creamy skin exposed along the edge of her white shift.

"Oh don't worry about me," he murmured as he pushed the straps of her shift off her shoulders and dragged the garment down with his teeth, revealing a cream-colored brassiere cupping round, supple breasts. He tugged the brassiere aside "Je préfère quand tu... fais á... l’orgasme première"

"Oh-ha!" Katrine gasped and clutched his head as he sucked her bare nipple into his mouth.

When he felt her nails dig into the back of his head, he hummed and pulled back. He blew on the hardened peak. and slipped the brassiere back into place.

"Oh fuck! Ne taquine pas!" she whined.

"Not teasing," he said, pushing the front of the dress the rest of the way down, "just warming you up." He pressed kisses along her ribs and belly as he inched the shift lower and lower. "I want you so wet you're dripping, Katrine," he said, drawing a moan from her throat as her hips bucked towards him. He used the moment to bunch her skirt and shift up higher, above her waist, baring her underwear to his gaze. He took in the bright red lace between her legs and growled "What are  _ these? _ " 

Katrine gasped, looking down at him. She was propped up on her elbows, skirt and shift bunched around her waist, as his hot, calloused fingers stroked over the red lace of her new underwear. "Ohh... Z'ey are a new fashion... benefit of organizing the black market… You like?" Her breath caught in her throat as he let his appreciative gaze move over her. 

"Mmm. I do like." He licked his lips and pressed two fingers into the fabric, feeling her arousal soak through. He met her eyes as he sank down onto the bar stool and hooked his thumbs into her scandalously small panties. He drew them down her legs, pressing kisses along her thighs and to each knee. He slipped the delicate, shocking undergarment down and off her legs, taking her heels off in the process. Katrine bit her lip and whimpered as he held her eyes and kissed the wet, red lace. He tucked it into the pocket of his shirt.

Then he kissed her knees again, and lifted her legs up over his shoulders. He curled his hands around her hips and kissed her thighs, breath tickling her moist curls.

"Fais ça!" she demanded “Ohh, Jack!” 

"Shhh,” he murmured as he kissed her just above her clit. “ Don't rush a man through a gourmet meal, Katrine," he told her, tracing her labia with his tongue. "I like to savor," he whispered, watching her face as he closed his mouth over her clit.

She shouted, bucking into him at the contact. He slid his hands under her ass and pressed her closer to his mouth.

Katrine threw her head back as his tongue ran circles around her clit. She ground her hips towards and away from his delightful, torturous mouth. Jack groaned against her. "You taste divine," he murmured, tongue laving her clit before tracing down through her folds, dipping into her as he lapped at her arousal.

Katrine was feisty, writhing on the polished bar top, eyes dark and heavy lidded. He soon had trouble keeping her hips pinned. Jack grunted and gripped her more firmly. He braced his elbows on the bar and bent his head to delve fully into her cunt. Her thighs gripped his head tightly. He could feel her muscles quivering. 

Jack moaned. "Come on, Katrine," he ordered softly as he sucked her lips. "I want to feel you cum in my mouth."

The soft voice, paired with his firm hands pinning her hips to him, and the feeling of his orders against her hot, slick cunt were her undoing. Katrine shrieked his name, her whole body arcing off the bar top. 

Jack released her hips and laid an arm across her, pinning her as he thrust two fingers into her convulsing heat, his thumb finding and pressing on her clit. 

Katrine shrieked and gasped as a second peak rolled through her. "Oh. Oh Jésus! Ahhh-ha" 

"Oh does that mean... stop" Jack teased, “maybe you’ve had enough.” He grinned as he purposely slowed his thrusts.

Katrine whined and slapped his arm. "Il n’y a pas assez!" she snapped. "Il n’y a pas assez de doigts - oh!" 

Her mouth fell open when he inserted a third finger. Jack grinned as he watched her.

"Oui! Oui! Ohhh!"

Katrine's muscles clenched around his curling fingers. Jack watched her beautiful, flushed body writhe for the third time. He swore - he could not take it any longer! He pulled his fingers out and pushed Katrine towards the middle of the bar. He climbed up with her.

Katrine panted, fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons. She growled and tore it instead, pushing the shirt down his arms as he unclasped his trousers. Jack tore the shirt the rest of the way off and balled it up, tucking it under her head. His large muscled arms bracketed her on either side as he used his knees to spread her legs wide. Katrine hooked them around his hips, babbling something French or English; he couldn't tell and didn’t care which. Her legs pulling him towards her and her hips grinding on him spoke as clearly as any tongue.

Jack kept one arm braced on the bar beside her head and grasped her hip to steady her. He locked his dark gaze with hers and watched Katrine gasp and her eyes roll as his cock pushed into her tight cunt.

“Oh, Jésus!” she cried out.

Jack groaned. "Feel so... fucking good." He thrust, careful at first not to slam her into the hardwood, but forgetting quickly as her mouth found his neck and her nails ran over his back. His pace quickened to match the frenzied rocking of her hips.

He was getting close when he felt her hand between them. "Nuh-uh," Jack grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away, using his own hand to rub fast circles over her clit.

Katrine cursed as her legs and inner muscles locked around him. Her whole body was shuddering. Jack moaned, his own release overpowering him. With herculean effort he pulled free of her, cum splashing across her flushed torso and heaving breasts. 

Jack collapsed, catching himself on his arms and tucking his face into her neck. He grinned as he felt her nails tracing through his hair.

"You.. spe - uh - parles.. français"

He chuckled at the way her husky voice stumbled over the two languages. "Je sais assez," he hummed. "Il était… ummm… a long boat ride." She giggled as he struggled for the right words and he laughed along with her. He moved his head to kiss her lips and felt her fingers pull him down closer. "J'ai étudié des… phrases essentiel."

" _ 'Suc ta friandise _ ,' c’est essentiel?" she murmured with amusement.

"Oh, without a doubt." He pushed back and brushed her hair from her face. 

Outside, they heard the church bells chime the hour and it broke the spell that lingered over the room, making Jack aware of the ache of his elbows on the hardwood and Katrine of the friction burns most certainly forming on her behind. "Ou...where are you staying?" she asked.

Jack helped her up, taking his white shirt from behind her head and draping it over her shoulders. "B'Elanna and Tom's sofa."

Katrine scoffed. "No. I have a flat upstairs. You will stay here."

"You're sure... an American man in your room isn’t going to be a problem?"

She snorted. "If they gossip, they pay double for drinks." She hopped off the bar and wobbled slightly. 

He steadied her. "Drink too much?" he teased.

"I'm fine… speaking of" she looked around eyes dazed with a soft smile on her face. "Where is that bottle you brought me?"

"Right here," he said, holding the bottle. 

She peered at it and grinned. “Un cru de 1939,”

“Bottled in a free France, opened in a free France.”

“Oh yes, I definitely want some of that later, and" her eyes darted down to his cock. She licked her lips. "Some of you"

He raised his eyebrows. "Round two?"

"Three...four..." She sauntered over to the stairs, beginning to make her way up. "Zere’s many hours before morning, non?” She twisted towards Jack as she began to climb the steps and reached into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out the scrap of red lace and dangling it towards him. "Are you up for it, Mon capitaine?"

His cock twitched. “I…" he chuckled. "Je suis prête."

She winked at him. "Bon, And get… something to drink zat with!" she called as she disappeared up the stairs.

"Yes ma'am," he murmured, grinning. He snatched the two closest glasses and the bottle in one hand. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, catching her at the top and delighting in her shriek as he lifted her over his shoulder. He sought out her room, fully intending to give it to her any which way she wanted - American, French, or anything else they could think of - until the sun came up, and for many years after.


End file.
